


Special Delivery

by WatTheCur



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Alien Cultural Differences, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Friendship, Other, Pre-Relationship, non-sexual nudity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-12 11:13:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28759374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WatTheCur/pseuds/WatTheCur
Summary: Ezri runs a gift to Six’s quarters.
Relationships: Ezri Dax/Weyoun 6
Kudos: 12





	Special Delivery

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this one a while ago and I must make one disclaimer: I realise now, upon re-reading this, that Six’s quarters ought to be dim rather than bright. It is logical to assume that he sees better in the dark, I think. I did not think about that at the time, however, so do excuse me!

The box was just heavy enough that she had to tuck it beneath her arm, before pressing the doorchime. 

“Who is it?” Ezri felt a flicker of satisfaction at the clarity of his answering call, no muted croaking that she would need to have repeated. 

“It’s Ezri!” 

“Please come in, Miss Dax.” 

Ezri rearranged the box as she entered, only looking up when the doors sealed behind her. The sight of her host hit her like the first step into a cold stream. Six was cross legged on the end of his bed, hunched over a PADD which he held as gingerly as if it were shard of inscribed crystal. He was naked. His colourless skin seemed to glare in the brightness of his quarters and for a moment, Ezri felt that her eyes would be seared. She became vaguely conscious of him looking up to greet her, hitching his bulky glasses up his nose (Julian had made several, barely good natured pleas to treat Six’s half blind eyes, to no avail. Six was adamant that the Founders’ design not be altered, only assisted). Ezri did not meet his gaze, as her eyes flitted with open curiosity over his foreign form. His body was patched with openings, their shape not unlike that of the Terran almond. Each was puffed with twin rows of delicate gills, repetitions of those of his ears. Gaping widest was the gilled mouth of his belly, which she now saw was soft, creasing with the curling of his spine. She was dimly aware of the hair, like astrakhan, that forked at the crest of his hidden groin and rose over his flanks, but her eyes where suddenly pulled to his knees. Her breath stuttered as she thought she saw pair of hands, second to those cradling the PADD, drumming their long, tender tipped fingers on Six’s kneecaps. She then realised that these new hands lay at the ends of his folded legs.

“Oh-ha…I’m sorry.” Six’s now meek voice brought her exploration to a close. The realisation of her invasive stare burned and she guiltily dropped her gaze to the box she held. 

“No, I’m so sorry, it was wrong of me to gawp. You’re in your own quarters after all!” The apology rang offensively loud, in the presence of the mild Vorta. As she chanced a look at his face, she was distracted by the quivering of his ears. The gills inside them fluttered and ruffled, like the feathers of a bird, puffing against the chill of winter. Ezri’s voice shrank, as she felt undeserving of the understanding in his tight smile. 

“The Vorta have been educated, as well as can be expected, on the comfort of other humanoids.” He rose from the bed deliberately, letting her decide where to place her eyes. “We have no cause to feel uncomfortable at being seen this way, apart from of course, the lack of protection. Then again, I know better than most that one, or two layers of cloth are useless against a blade, or a phaser fire.” At the edge of her vision, the gills of his belly rippled. "I was inconsiderate, I should have remembered that I was in no state to be seen, before I invited you in.“ As he finished, He peeled a stiff, grey jumpsuit from the head of the bed and began to ease it over his bare legs. His feet, those elongated hands, popped out from beneath the flared hems. "There.” She lifted her head as Six closed the last snap at his shoulder. “Much better, I wouldn’t feel embarrassed about your inquisitiveness, Miss Dax,” His brows knitted at the lingering flush across her cheeks, “I must look quite different to a Trill. If I were in your position, I am sure I would have stared, too.”

Ezri could tell that her cheeks had not cooled, but she tried to scupper the concern surfacing in his gaze with a lopsided smile. She glanced down at the box once more, before thrusting it towards him with both hands. 

“From Garak.” A soft and quizzical “oh?” escaped Six, as his own hands tentatively uncurled to receive the box. With a brief grin, Ezri added; “A delivery for Weyoun the Sixth, from a Mr. E. Garak!” She gave a mock salute. 

Six did not quite smile, he was so intent on the box, but she was grateful not to have missed the twitch of amusement beneath his eyes. Had she a moment to dwell on it, she would think that many of the crew would likely appreciate the more subdued and genuine nature of Six’s humour, compared to the practised laughter of his predecessor and contemporary. Six was studying the box in his hands, not unlike the way in which she had studied him earlier. He rocked it gently, weighing it, his eyes darting about the lid. 

“You gonna open it? Oh I-would you prefer I left before you open it?” She had expected him to be jolted by her question, having forgotten she was there. Instead, a small, chipper smile graced him. He looked almost as if he had been waiting for her to speak, to confirm something for him. 

“No, stay, let’s both see what it is.” He said, as he eased his fingers beneath the lid. In truth, Ezri had already guessed what might be inside and she wagered that he did, too, but she politely stepped forward to see the reveal. The lid fell aside, onto the bed and Six deftly parted the protective tissue. A long moment of silence passed, after the rustling had ceased, as Six gazed at the contents of the box. 

“An outfit.” Ezri confirmed, bouncing once on her toes. “I believe Garak’s exact words were; "Miss Dax, thank goodness I’ve caught you! Here, make haste and take this to Mr Weyoun. I must confess that each sighting of him in those shapeless dust cloths is moving me closer to my grave than any one of my enemies could ever dream!”.“ She told his this, because she felt that Weyoun would likely be above getting upset over a slight on his clothing. What is a slight on one’s clothing, when one saw nothing beautiful in them to begin with? That did not stop her from worrying that her recounting the tailor’s words had been a mistake as she glanced back at Six, anxiously gnawing at his lip. At last, he spoke. 

"I wonder if I can pay for this…you know, I think I can.” Six set the box down and made for the corner of his quarters that was ever swelling with the valueless brick a brack he liked to bring home. Not all of it was without value Ezri realised, as the Vorta squatted beside an assemble of gold-pressed latinum strips. The small slabs had been stacked into rugged, shimmering towers, as if a child had used them to build a little golden city. 

“You wouldn’t keep your latinum out in the open like that, someone could see it and try to break into your quarters later-hey, don’t, you’ll make it scab up, again.” She knelt beside him and swatted the air in front of his mouth, trying to get him to release his lip. The flesh, now wet and purple, sprang from between his teeth as he began to speak again. 

“There may be enough here for the cost of the outfit, wouldn’t you say? If only I had know that Mr. Garak was making it, I would have played longer.” 

“Played longer?” 

“Yes, I won it.” His voice was growing quieter, but his eyes widened slightly with a child-like pride, as he looked from the latinum to the Trill. “There are a lot of entertaining games to play at Quark’s. I believe I was able to pick up the rules of Tongo rather quickly, for a new comer.” He began to lick his lip rather than chew it, as he glanced back at the latinum. He was trying to sooth it.

“You know, I think that if you didn’t know that Garak was making the outfit for you, then he won’t expect any payment, except perhaps profuse thanks. It’s a gift, Six.” She hoped her smile was reassuring. She smiled wider as Six tried to return it with a raw mouth.

“A very generous gift.” He whispered. 

“I think it may actually be more of a generous gift to himself, than to you. You heard what he said.” That wrung a chuckle out of both of them, brief, but sincere, cosy. “You should try it on,” Ezri said as they stood up, “see if it would have been worth giving Garak all your hard won latinum for.” 

With a high hum of agreement, Six drifted over to the bed, unsnapping the shoulder of his jumpsuit. Just before Ezri turned away from him, she glimpsed his exposed back and found that, though the nape of his neck was smooth as vellum, that dark, crinkled hair sprouted thickly along the path of his spine. The amount of hair on him surprised her and the thought of one day ruffling him between his shoulder blades flashed across her mind. She readily shook the image away, settling her focus upon Six’s collection. She peered beyond the bright, little latinum city, over the colourful fleet of bottles, holding shards of their fallen brethren and into the country of cheap treasures. She had to swallow a laugh, as she spied among the clutter, a green and scarlet hookah, cracked and opaque with age, crowned by a bundle of naked jumja sticks. An obscene picture. 

“I’m decent.” Six called her to judge his newest possession. 

At her second first sight of him that day, her breath caught again. Ezri had heard that the best tailor is a skilled illusionist. He could shave thirty pounds off a client with just the right cut, or grow them up several inches with the correct marriage of colour and pattern. Looking at Six, clad in Garak’s newest creation, she dearly hoped that in was not her imagination that this tailor appeared not to have set out to deceive those who gazed on the Vorta, but showcase him to them. 

The set was as minimal as any uniform, a tunic, trousers and boots. Ezri was surprised that Garak had retained the dull colours that he was so used to seeing and despising on this unwitting client. The tunic was of some sort of lush velvet, black, but for a central, herring bone column, which was a dove grey. It dipped just beneath Six’s collar and drew to a point at the hem, between his thighs. The higher panels had space in between them, narrowing as they stretched down his breastbone, a screen of dark mesh behind them hinting at the flesh beneath. The trousers, also black, wrinkled almost charmingly at the mouths of the knee high boots, the feet of which seemed to be shaped to accommodate him. (Ezri considered that Garak must have commissioned them from elsewhere). He had even been given new glasses, lighter, rectangular lenses, framed in silver . The clothes that Six had been replicating for himself had been only for the purpose of coverage, impersonal and detached. They had hidden him with their practical shapelessness. This new assemble was wholly a gift for him. The garments hugged Six without squeezing him, the seams sharp, though not distractingly angular, yielding with his form and celebrating the slightness and softness of it. Close, but not boastful, it illuminated him. _“This is he!”_ was what it said. Oh, Garak, you absolute master. 

“Fantastic.” The Trill’s beam shone on the Vorta’s modesty. “You look just fantastic.” 

Six’s eyes slowly warmed with pride, happy and careless lines splitting across his face. He rocked slightly on his heels and she felt tempted to mimic him. 

“I shall take your word as truth, Ezri Dax.” He proclaimed at last, with a chuckle. Ezri was about to jokingly tell him that everyone one on Deep Space Nine would call that a mistake, but she withheld from marring the sincerity of the moment.

“I’m off duty, you know.” She said. “You could wear it out to a lunch with me?”

“Why not? Here’s to hoping I don’t spill anything.” Six reverently smoothed the front of the tunic, careful not to pull at the mesh.


End file.
